She could tell that Joe was getting annoyed by her obsession with Carl. He seemed to think she should simply get over it—to ignore the fact that her father’s murderer was walking around free. But it was impossible for her to ignore it. Knowing she could run into Carl at any moment made her feel vulnerable, which was unacceptable. Every time she left her house, her nerves were on full alert. She was afraid to let go of her anger
At a time in her life when she had expected to be shopping for sweet baby things and worrying about nothing more than the best way to create a nursery in their small house…she couldn’t stop obsessing over her father’s killer.
It was easier for Joe. His nemesis, Henrietta, was tucked away in a psych ward at a prison in California. He didn’t have to constantly wonder whether his homicidal former agent would suddenly appear the minute he stepped foot outside his house.
It bothered her that Joe wasn’t as indignant as she was over Carl. For the first time, she wondered if it would be better for Joe to go ahead and take that job in Cleveland. Or Columbus. He could commute home on weekends. Other couples did it…although none she knew did it all that successfully.
As she drove through downtown Sugarcreek nursing her anger against Carl, her resentment toward Joe, and her hurt feelings by Bertha, she saw Joe and Bobby standing on the sidewalk behind a large delivery truck parked crookedly on Main Street. She stopped to investigate and saw that Darren was also there, directing delivery men to carry a commercial-sized refrigerator to an old storefront that had been empty for a couple of months.
Leaning against the side of the building was a large sign painted in red, white, and blue block letters. It said, “Joe’s Home Plate.”
She parked, got out, and was greeted by her husband and son. Darren seemed practically giddy as he followed the delivery men inside.
Bobby was jumping up and down with excitement as she approached. “Me and Daddy and Uncle Darren are making a restaurant!”
“Is that right?” Rachel smiled at Bobby then shot Joe a questioning look.
“Hi, sweetheart,” Joe said cheerfully. “I’m glad you stopped. Apparently we are officially going into the restaurant business. Or we’ll be in business as long as the money from the sale of Darren’s car holds out.”
“Why didn’t you tell me about this?”
“I didn’t know about it until this morning. Darren showed up and told me he’d sold his Lamborghini and rented this building for the next six months. He already had the sign made and had arranged to have a commercial refrigerator delivered today. My head is still whirling.”
“The sale of his car is paying for all this?”
“That’s what he says.”
“So he sold it and invested the money in a restaurant that involves you without saying a word to you about it?”
“He did.” Joe wore the biggest grin she’d seen on his face since he’d come back from L.A. Apparently he was not the least bit upset that his brother had done this thing without consulting them.
“I remember him talking about opening a restaurant the night he had dinner with us,” she said. “But I had no idea he was truly serious about the idea.”
“Me either.” Joe put his arm around her as they stared at the storefront together. “I have to admit, I have a lot of reservations, but he’s so excited about the idea that I’m kinda feeling it too…even though I think we should probably both have our heads examined.”
“Uncle Darren wants Daddy to bring his trophies,” Bobby announced. “All of them.”
“For decoration,” Joe added. “He’s got this baseball theme going on.”
“And Daddy says I can bring my trophies too,” Bobby said. “Except I don’t have any yet.”
“I’m sure that will change,” Rachel said.
“Yep.” Bobby nodded his head in agreement, full of six-year-old self-confidence. “It probably will.”
“Do you want to bring your trophies too?” Joe asked, teasing. “The ones for shooting?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Three reasons: Bertha, Lydia, and Anna.”
“Those are good reasons.”
“Yeah, I have enough issues with my aunts without displaying my sharpshooting awards.”
“Didn’t they know?”
“No. I was on the force in Akron at the time. I didn’t mention it.”
“The refrigerator is installed!” Darren walked outside, sweaty, disheveled, and with a big grin. “Whaddya think of my idea, Rachel?”
“I think you’ve taken a big gamble,” she said, evenly.
“True, but wouldn’t it be something if that gamble turned into a way to make a good living?”
“Daddy says I can help,” Bobby said. “Ezra and his daddy sell vegetables. I can help my daddy at work just like Ezra does.”
“It does seem to be the Amish way for the whole family to be involved in a business,” Joe said.
“I think you and your brother might have been around my aunts for too long. You’ll be trying to open another B & B here in Sugarcreek before I know it.”
“Hey,” Joe said, “this wasn’t my idea.”
“Do you suppose you could talk Lydia into making pies for it?” Darren asked.
“I don’t know,” Rachel said. “She has her hands pretty full with the inn.”
“I’ll go talk to her about it,” Darren said. “Now, Micah, about the menu…”
“Can I talk to you in private, Joe?” Rachel asked.
“Sure. Darren, keep an eye on Bobby?”
“I don’t like this,” Rachel said, once she and Joe were sitting in his truck and no one could hear.
“I didn’t like it either, at first,” Joe said. “But the more Darren talked about it, the more it sounded like a good idea.”
She tried to reason with him. “Joe, you aren’t a businessman. You’ve already proven that to both of us. You can’t cook more than a handful of items. I hate to say this, but I think you’re making a huge mistake, getting hooked up with Darren.”
The smile melted from Joe’s face.
“What am I supposed to do, Rachel? Sit at home and let you support me? You don’t want me making commercials. Neither of us want to move Bobby away from here. I can’t play ball anymore. Apart from showing up from time to time at a convention to sign autographs, I don’t have a whole lot of options. I’ve put in applications everywhere I can think of around here and I can’t even get a call back from a lumber company. Everyone is thrilled to meet me, but they seem to think that my applying for a job is some sort of joke.”
“I didn’t realize you were so upset.”
“How could you? You’re so wrapped up in the fact that Carl Bateman is free, you hardly notice us. And even when you aren’t talking about him, I know you’re thinking about him because of the sour expression on your face.”
“I have a right to be angry!”
“You do. But there are more important things for you to pay attention to than an old man who has served his time.”
“I beg to disagree,” Rachel said. “He did not serve his time. He served only twenty years. He was supposed to be in prison for life.”
“I would expect that sort of reasoning out of a civilian, Rachel, but you know how the system works. You know people get out early all the time.”
“I do know how the system works. I also know the system makes mistakes. Sometimes big ones.”
“If it was anyone but Carl, you would hardly notice. This is all about letting go of the past. What you are doing is not healthy. You need to figure out a way to get over this, or…”
“Or what?”
“Or Bobby and I might have to go move into the daadi haus for a while, until you do.”
“You’re threatening to leave me?” She was aghast. “Because of a murderer?” “I’ll do whatever I have to do,” Joe said, “to protect my son.”
“From me?” Rachel couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “I love that child. He’s my son too.�
��
“Then get over yourself and act like it.”
“Get out.”
“It’s my truck, Rachel.”
She flung open the door, got out, and slammed it shut.
He rolled down the window as she strode away. “I was on the fence about this restaurant business,” he called. “But I’ve made my decision now. I’m going to give it my best shot…with or without you.”
Chapter 40
Joe was late in coming home, and since he had Bobby with him, Rachel was alone at the house for most of the evening. Unfortunately, she was also alone with her thoughts. They were not kind thoughts or conciliatory ones. All she could think about was that she and Joe had just had their first real argument since they’d gotten married, and it had been a doozy.
She blamed it all on Carl. If it weren’t for him, she and Joe would still be happy together.
Had Joe actually threatened to leave her?
When she heard Joe’s car pull up, Rachel made certain that she was busy doing something else. What? Dusting. She grabbed a rag from the closet and began to skim it over the nearest surface.
As Joe and Bobby came through the door, neither acknowledged the other. Bobby was subdued, looking from one parent to another and sensing that something was wrong.
“Time for bed, Bobby,” Rachel said. “I’ll run your bathwater.”
“I’ll take care of it,” Joe said.
“All right.”
For the first time since their marriage began, she did not help Joe tuck Bobby in after his bath. Being in the same room with Joe didn’t seem like a good idea right now.
Forty-five minutes later, Joe came down the stairs. Having dusted everything she could in the small house, she was now energetically polishing the kitchen faucet.
“Excuse me,” he said. She politely moved aside while he got a glass of water. The air was thick with unspoken words.
She could hardly believe Joe was being so cold to her. In the past, he’d always been so understanding and comforting. But if they were going to talk, he was going to have to initiate it—which he did.
“You didn’t come up to tuck Bobby in,” he said. “I know it’s because you’re hurt and mad, but he was upset about it. I think we’d better talk this out before we damage him further.”
That was the second time he’d accused her of being a bad mother. Instead of hearing the concern in his voice, she was incensed by what she felt was an accusation. Being Rachel, she knew only one thing to do. Fight back.
“You threatened to leave me—when I’m pregnant with your child. I never expected that out of you. What kind of man does that?”
“I wasn’t threatening to leave you; I was telling you that I’ll do whatever I have to—no matter how much it hurts me—to protect my son.”
“From me?”
“From your anger. I love you, Rachel, but tonight Bobby asked me why you are mad at him. I tried to explain that you aren’t mad at him; you’re mad at someone else. He said he understood, but how can he? I’m not sure that I even understand. It feels like you’re mad at me all the time too. Bertha tells me she’s afraid to say anything to you for fear you’ll blow up at her. Even Darren is feeling the tension.”
“You’ve been discussing me with other people?”
“No, other people have been discussing you with me. They are worried about you. So am I, but I won’t let you hurt my son with your inability to get over the fact that Carl is out of prison and there’s nothing you can do about it. You’re an adult. You can make your own decisions. I realize that what you went through as a child damaged you far beyond what I ever suspected, but I can’t change that now. All I can do is try to make sure my son is okay. Bobby’s a child. He needs to have a parental buffer between him and the world. That’s what I intend to do. But I never dreamed I would have to be a buffer between him and you.”
Rachel felt as if she were going to explode. “I need to get out of here,” she said.
“Good idea,” Joe shot back.
It surprised her that he didn’t try to talk her into staying.
She drove around town trying to decide where to go. Under the circumstances, the sanctuary of her aunts’ house did not feel like an option. She would probably get a lecture. Naomi had an extra room and was a good friend, but if she went there, she would probably hear some Amish platitude about not letting the sun go down on her wrath. With their money issues, a hotel was too expensive.
Finally, she went to the only place she was certain would welcome her. She had a key to the police station and there was a cot in the back room. With any luck, she could come in by the back door without the dispatcher noticing. Explaining why she was there was not something Rachel wanted to do right now.
Chapter 41
When Rachel woke the next morning, she felt like a fool…not only because of the fight she’d had with Joe, but because Ed was standing there looking down at her.
“Rough night?” he said.
“I, um…”
“A fight with Joe?”
She nodded, embarrassed.
He put his hands on his hips and gave a sigh of frustration. “What am I going to do with you, Rachel?”
She scrambled off the cot, ran her fingers through her hair, encountered multiple tangles, and gave up.
“In case you’re wondering”—Ed sat on the cot she’d vacated and crossed his legs—“you look like crap. Your eyes are all puffy. What did you do, cry yourself to sleep?”
She nodded.
“Go home, Rachel. Apologize to the man or throw dishes at him, I don’t care. But work it out. Life’s just too short.”
Rachel went out the back way and managed to avoid seeing anyone else. Her internal alarm clock, which she’d always been able to depend upon, had failed her. It had certainly chosen a fabulous time. Ed was her boss! She was humiliated beyond words. With any luck, Joe would be gone when she crawled home looking like something the cat had dragged in.
But Joe and Bobby were sitting at the kitchen table, eating cereal, when she arrived. Bobby was adorable in his little SpongeBob underwear. Joe was wearing plaid pajama bottoms, and she conceded that he looked good in them. Her husband and son stared at her with astonishment on their faces.
“Are you okay, Rachel?” Bobby asked. “Did you fight some bad guys last night?”
Joe choked on his cereal.
“Not one word, Joe,” she warned.
Joe sobered, rose, and went to the counter, pouring a cup of coffee.
“You look like you need this,” he said, handing it to her.
She sat down at the table and wrapped her hands around her favorite coffee mug, surprised that he’d picked the one she preferred. It was good to be home, even under the circumstances.
“No, Bobby, I didn’t fight any bad guys while I was gone…but I did have a rough night.” She glanced at Joe. “I feel a lot better this morning.”
“Did your tummy hurt?” Bobby asked.
“A little.”
“My tummy hurts sometimes.”
“I know, sweetheart.” Rachel’s heart melted at the little boy’s concern. “But I’m fine. I promise.”
“Go get your clothes on, buddy,” Joe said. “We’ve got a big day today at the restaurant. I’m going to let you help me scrape grease off an oven.”
“Yay!” Bobby rushed up the stairs.
“He’s easily entertained,” Joe said.
Rachel stared down at her coffee cup, wondering what to say next. Apologies didn’t come easy to her. When she looked up, Joe was studying her.
“What?” she said, shoving a strand of hair out of her face. “Is it that bad?”
“Actually, I was trying to figure out how a woman in a wrinkled uniform with puffy eyes and needing a hairbrush as badly as you do—could still be so gorgeous.”
It was most definitely the right thing to say, and it broke the rest of the ice around her heart. “I’m sorry, Joe.”
“I’m sorry too,” he said. �
��I’ll never threaten to leave you again. It’s an empty threat anyway. I love you too much to leave. But—while you’re working your way through this—try not to let your hatred of Carl affect your relationship with Bobby. Or with me.”
“Of course,” she said. “But do you understand why I’m struggling? Why I can’t just pretend that nothing happened?”
“No one’s expecting you to pretend. All we want is for you to act like we’re not the enemy, because we aren’t.”
“I need to apologize to Bertha too, don’t I?”
“Yes. That old woman loves you…but it might be a good idea to shower first. Where did you stay last night? I was worried, but I figured you could take care of yourself.”
“The cot at the station. Ed found me sleeping there this morning.”
“Ed found you?” Joe bit his lip. She could tell he was trying not to laugh. “So how did your police chief react?”
“I got a lecture. Then he told me to go home and give my husband a kiss.”
“Ed said that?”
“No.” She leaned toward him. “I just want to. I really am sorry, Joe. Let’s not fight anymore.”
He pulled her into his arms. “Sounds good to me.”
Chapter 42
Even though Carl had been working for Doc Peggy for two weeks, he always made sure he never missed the ritual of morning coffee with George. It was nice having someone to talk to who was as pleased about his new job as he was. This morning, however, it was George who had some news for him.
“Brother Jones thinks you need a vehicle,” George said. “He says his sister-in-law can’t drive hers anymore and has gone into a nursing home. He thinks you might want it.”
“How much?”
“She’s giving it to you, if you want it and can afford the insurance.”
Carl was surprised but cautious. He knew he was a bit of a project for the church congregation. He was grateful for their help, but even if the car was free, he didn’t want to take on a piece of junk.
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